


Desert Wind

by Miles_2_Go



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Compliant Through Season 3, Hurt Derek Hale, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Kitsune, M/M, Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, not season 4 compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22030528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miles_2_Go/pseuds/Miles_2_Go
Summary: The gang saves Derek in Mexico. Instead of turning Derek into a teenager, Kate tortures him. After rescuing Derek and fleeing from a pissed off Kate, the group ends up stranded in the Mexican desert, Kate and her mysterious female companion hot on their tails.===They found Derek in an ancient Mayan pyramid in Mexico. He never was able to tell them what Kate wanted from him, or why she chose that place. Not even later, when it was all over. Stiles, out of character though it was for him, didn’t try to make sense of it. Normally he’d poke and prod and dig until he knew everything there was to know, but he didn’t. He just wanted to forget. Wanted to forget how they’d found Derek strung up, his wrists raw and burned an angry, fiery red from the wolfsbane-coated shackles, half-naked and covered in wounds that would never heal right, not even for a werewolf. Derek would carry the scars for the rest of his life, one last fuck-you from Kate so that he could never really forget her, never truly be rid of her.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags say, this work is canon-compliant up through the end of season 3. It veers off from there, and takes place at the beginning of season 4.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you like this story, I crave validation. T_T It also helps me know if a story is worth continuing.

They found Derek in an ancient Mayan pyramid in Mexico. He never was able to tell them what Kate wanted from him, or why she chose that place. Not even later, when it was all over. Stiles, out of character though it was for him, didn’t try to make sense of it. Normally he’d poke and prod and dig until he knew everything there was to know, but he didn’t. He just wanted to forget. Wanted to forget how they’d found Derek strung up, his wrists raw and burned an angry, fiery red from the wolfsbane-coated shackles, half-naked and covered in wounds that would never heal right, not even for a werewolf. Derek would carry the scars for the rest of his life, one last fuck-you from Kate so that he could never really forget her, never truly be rid of her.

They couldn’t kill Kate. She was too strong now. So Scott, Kira, and Malia fought her in the courtyard at the front of the pyramid, distracting her while Stiles and Lydia freed Derek. They hadn’t thought to bring fucking bolt cutters, so Lydia screamed at the chains that held Derek to the wall. Derek was barely conscious, so Stiles pressed both of his palms over Derek’s ears, protecting them from the scream. Stiles brought his shoulders up around his own ears, tilting his head so that at least his right ear was protected by his shoulder. He tried to press his bicep against his left ear, but it didn’t really help. Lydia screamed and the sound ripped through the air, bouncing off the stone walls of the small chamber, magnifying it. The chains shattered and Derek sagged into Stiles’s arms. Stiles was still reeling from the scream, both of his ears ringing. He felt a trickle of liquid dribble out of his left ear.

He staggered under Derek’s weight and Lydia rushed to help. Her lips were moving, but all Stiles could hear was ringing. He tried to blink the spots from his vision. His head throbbed with his racing heartbeat. He shook it off and pulled one of Derek’s arms over his shoulders. Lydia took Derek’s other side. Together, they stumbled out of the pyramid.

The fight between the four shifters still raged outside. The three of them made their way to the Jeep as quickly as they could. Once Stiles and Lydia managed to bundle Derek into the backseat, Stiles leaned into the Jeep’s horn with both hands. He saw Kate’s head whip around at the sound and her eyes narrowed when she focused on them, her Jaguar-print-mottled face twisting into a snarl. Her attention on them, she didn’t notice Malia pulling something out of her jacket.

They were too far away for Stiles to hear what they were saying, even if he’d been able to hear anything other than the loud ringing in his ears. Malia’s lips moved as she yelled something to Kate, her arm coming up, holding the thing she had pulled from her jacket level with Kate’s face. Kate spun back around.

Malia shot her in the face.

They hadn’t wanted to risk smuggling the gun over the border, but they’d managed to lift one off of the Calaveras. The bullets were wolfsbane, though not the yellow variety. They would barely slow Kate down, but they didn’t need to slow her down for long.

Kate stumbled back and Malia, Scott, and Kira all made a break for the Jeep. Their run at were-speed only took a few seconds, but Kate was already recovering by the time the three of them dove inside the vehicle. She roared and lunged. Her Jaguar speed was even more impressive than the others. Stiles stomped down on the gas pedal and the Jeep's tires spun for just a second in the sand and then they were off, leaving Kate behind in the dust.

If Stiles had been looking back, he would have seen another woman in the distance, standing up on a hill near the pyramid. She stood stock still, the desert dust washing over her earthen-brown skin and her black hair whipping wildly around her head. She narrowed copper eyes at the retreating group. Watching.

===

It was only a few hours before the Jeep sputtered and died. Stiles cursed as the engine  _ thunk thunk thunked _ its death throes. Nervous sounds went up from the group crammed uncomfortably in the Jeep.

“I think there’s actually a town not far off,” Lydia said, squinting at the map spread out in her lap. No GPS this far into the middle of nowhere. “It’s within walking distance. Barely.” She glanced out the window and up at the open desert sky. The sun glared down at them. “We might even be able to make it before sundown.”

The hearing in Stiles’s right ear had gradually come back over the last few hours. He wasn’t sure the hearing in the left would  _ ever _ come back. Blood had run from the ear all the way down his neck where it had dried. The crusted blood pulled at the skin when he turned his neck to look into the back of the Jeep. Kira, Scott, and Malia were crammed into the Jeep’s pitiful excuse for a backseat. Derek was stretched out across their laps to make room, his head resting in Malia’s lap and his feet in Scott’s. He hadn’t really been fully conscious since they found him. His eyes were closed. They hadn’t yet been able to remove the wolfsbane shackles from his wrists and he was drawn and pale, his complexion almost gray. Unhealed wounds still littered his body, and some of them even looked angry with infection.

“I don’t think walking is really an option,” Stiles said, nodding toward Derek. “Not with him, anyway.”

“Maybe a few of us should stay behind with him and the rest go for help?” Kira suggested.

Lydia and Malia shook their heads simultaneously. “Splitting up is  _ never _ a good idea,” Malia said.

“We don’t really have much of a choice,” Scott said.

Derek stirred then, bloodshot eyes opening into slits. His chest rose as he took a breath. “I’m okay,” he said, his weak voice was rough and barely audible to Stiles’s one working ear. “I can make it.” He struggled to sit up, but Malia pushed him down.

“Easy, big guy,” Stiles soothed. He grabbed a canteen from the floorboard by Lydia’s feet and handed it back to Kira. Kira took it wordlessly and popped the cap off. Malia put a hand under Derek’s head and lifted it gently while Kira poured water over Derek’s chapped lips and into his mouth. He took a few greedy gulps and Kira pulled the canteen away when he choked.

He dropped his head back into Malia’s lap, exhausted, and cleared his throat. His voice was still weak, but it wasn’t as rough. “I can make it,” he repeated. “If we stay here, we die. Kate and her psycho nogitsune girlfriend will catch up to us.”

Stiles’s breath caught in his throat and his heart thudded in his chest. He felt his face pale.

All eyes but Derek’s turned to him.

“Her  _ what?” _ Scott asked. Stiles couldn’t make his voice work to ask the question himself.

“There’s a woman with her,” Derek said. His eyes closed as he spoke, and he was visibly tiring with the effort. “Her name is Cualli. From what I can tell, she’s a...nogitsune who possessed the body...of a  _ kaze…” _ He trailed off, obviously too tired to continue.

“A wind kitsune,” Kira explained for him, her voice distant with awe. “She would...she would have the powers of two types of kitsune.” Her eyes met with Scott’s. “He’s right,” she said. “We have to go. We have to go  _ now.” _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack is stranded in the desert. Kate and Cualli, the nogitsune-possessed-wind-kitsune, are catching up to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Malia comes off a bit badly in this, but I promise this isn't Malia-bashing. I really like her character. She's just scared and she gets cranky when she's scared. And she's still learning how to be human.
> 
> Don't forget to leave me a comment! :)

They left the Jeep behind. Stiles hated to do it. He loved the stupid, unreliable hunk of metal. It was all he had left of his mom. But they had no choice. He made Lydia mark their location on her map so they could try to come back for it later. 

If there  _ was _ a later for any of them.

Derek was weak as a kitten and utterly exhausted, so it was slow going. Stiles and Scott, being the tallest and therefore the most comfortable for Derek to lean his six-foot frame on, took turns supporting him as they walked. Stiles noted that Derek was worryingly lighter than he’d been before.

Stiles would know. He’d had to support Derek’s weight plenty of times over the years.

Derek, surprisingly, managed to stay conscious as he shuffled along laboriously. There were a few times he almost seemed to start to nod off, but Stiles would rouse him with a gentle nudge and Derek would jolt awake. Stiles tried to keep him awake by talking. He talked about what had been going on in Beacon Hills while Derek was gone. He talked about how they’d (finally, after a shamefully long time) noticed that Derek was missing and gone after him. He talked about his research. Talked about their journey down to Mexico. Their encounter with the Calaveras.

It seemed to help. Derek was even listening to some of it, even asking questions here and there.

“You went to see the  _ Calaveras?” _ Derek asked incredulously, an unexpected spurt of energy leaking into his voice. “You spoke to Araya? As in the Araya that  _ tortured _ me and Peter? That was stupid. She could have killed you.” Chastising them sure seemed to perk Derek right up.

“Hey, if we hadn’t, we never would have figured out that Kate took you,” Stiles said indignantly. “Besides, if we always had to avoid people who have tortured you at some point, we’d...well, it’s a big list of people, is what I’m saying. You get tortured a lot.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the sensation of Derek’s clammy skin under his hands, and the feeling of his too-light body leaning into Stiles’s side put a lump in his throat. Derek really did get tortured a lot. Too much. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he added.

Derek was quiet for so long Stiles thought he was drifting off again. He was about to nudge him when Derek spoke. “Thank you,” he said. His tone was genuine, surprising Stiles. Derek lifted his head to address the rest of the group. “All of you.”

The others all mumbled responses and Scott clapped Derek on the back gently. “Of course. You’re pack, Derek.”

===

They weren't going to make it to the town before nightfall. The sun was hanging dangerously low in the sky and there was still no town in sight. They hadn't even seen any road signs yet.

It was Scott's turn to help Derek and the two of them were lagging considerably further and further behind. The others had slowed to their pace, but it was a struggle to go so slow when they could all feel an itching at the back of their necks. The shifters, especially, were anxious. They could sense it. They were being followed.

"We need to stop," Scott said. He was half-carrying Derek now and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to put more of Derek's weight on his shoulders. Derek's eyes were half open and he didn't seem to be cognizant of his surroundings anymore. "He needs to rest."

"We can't stop," Malia said. "Can't you feel it? They're getting closer. If we stop they will  _ kill _ us. We should just—"

"Malia," Stiles interrupted before she could finish her sentence. "We  _ just _ talked about this, remember? We don't leave friends behind. We are  _ not _ leaving Derek."

Malia opened her mouth to argue.

_ "Or _ eating him," Stiles interjected.

Malia crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "I wasn't gonna say we should eat him," she mumbled.

"She's right." Derek's voice was quiet, but everyone's heads turned to him when he spoke. He blinked blearily and lifted his head. His eye met Stiles's. He seemed to shake himself out of the half-conscious trance he’d been in. "I'm slowing you down,” he said. “They'll kill you if they catch up. Just leave me here. Kate won't kill me, she just wants…" He trailed off, swallowing dryly.

"Derek?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Lydia," Kira spoke up. "How much further to town?"

"Um…" Lydia pulled the crumpled map out of her dress pocket and spread it out. She looked around at the landscape—gravel road, craggy hills, rocks, dirt, cacti—then back at the map. She bit her bottom lip.

"Lydia," Scott said slowly. He clenched his crooked jaw. "You do know where we are, right?"

Lydia looked up from the map, her hazel eyes round. "Of  _ course _ I know where we are. We're..." She hesitated.

"Great," Malia said forcefully, throwing her arms up. "Whose brilliant idea was it to let the  _ banshee _ have the map? Have you just been leading us to our  _ deaths _ this whole time?"

"Hey!" Lydia said, her voice cracking.

"Malia, that's not helping," Stiles scolded.

“Well excuse me for not being helpful!” Malia cried. “I guess I’m just the only one worried about the creepy cheetah-or-whatever bitch and her nogitsune girlfriend!  _ Nogitsune, _ Stiles. You of all people should understand why we should be  _ running.” _

Stiles tried to block that word out, but it ground into his brain like broken glass. He had been trying not to think about it ever since Derek had spoken it into existence the first time, but the fear in Malia’s voice was making it all too real. She continued to yell at him, but her voice was suddenly distant, muffled. The ringing in Stiles’s ears became magnified and he felt his heart rate kick up. The sunlight seemed to dim until it wasn’t sunlight, but the flickering fluorescents of a hospital under siege by demons. He could smell blood. He felt weird; floaty. Like he wasn’t in his own body.

Then there was a small, warm hand on his shoulder and he came back to himself. The ringing died away to a normal post-hearing damage level and the daylight was just daylight again. He blinked at the face that had appeared in front of him.

“Stiles?” Lydia said, her voice urgent and her expression worried. By the sound of it, he was pretty sure that wasn’t the first time she’d said his name. She moved her hand from his shoulder to cup his face. “Are you with us?”

“You kind of zoned out there for a minute, bro,” Scott said worriedly.

Stiles cleared his throat, embarrassed. Malia had stopped yelling and everyone was looking at him. “I’m fine.”

Lydia frowned. “You’re not fine. You just dissociated.” She sighed and dropped her hand from his face. “We don’t have time right now, but we’re talking about this when we get back home,” she promised.

Stiles felt utterly drained. He nodded, then leveled his eyes at Malia. “We’re not leaving Derek behind.” He looked at Derek and Derek looked back at him, his expression tired, but unreadable. “We’ll carry him if we have to.”

“Uh, guys,” Kira said. Her back was turned to them and she was staring at something off in the distance. Stiles tried to see what she was seeing, but his weak human eyes couldn’t make out anything of note. “I don’t think we have time to argue about this anymore.”

Malia put a hand on Kira’s shoulder and pushed her lightly aside to look for what she was seeing. Her eyes widened. “Shit,” she cursed. “It’s them.”

As if on cue, Stiles felt the wind pick up.

===

The sandstorm hit them quick and hard. Stiles had seen a few sandstorms before, they were rare in California, but they happened. Sometimes if the winds were right, one would blow in. Really all that happened in a Californian sandstorm was the wind would be a little too strong and the air would take on a foggy redness.

This sandstorm was nothing like that.

One second it was still, without even a slight breeze, the next, the wind kicked up and Stiles’s flannel was whipping around him. He squinted as sand slapped against his face, spraying into his eyes.

Then the wind  _ howled. _

A strong gust hit Stiles and he staggered against it. Through his increasingly hazy vision, he saw the others do the same.

“What the hell is this?” Malia yelled over the roar of the wind.

“It’s the nogitsune!” Kira cried. “I told you, she has wind-kitsune powers!”

“We have to run!” Lydia yelled, her voice high and panicked.

“Run  _ where?” _ Scott asked. Stiles could hear the desperation in his voice.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles said, stumbling over to Scott and taking Derek’s other arm over his shoulder. “Just keep going the direction we’ve been heading.” He coughed as a blast of sand hit him in the face and his mouth and throat were filled with grit. “Derek,” he sputtered, putting his mouth close to Derek’s ear so he could hear him over the wind. “You’re gonna have to dig up some wolfy energy reserves in there somewhere, big guy. We gotta go fast.”

Stiles could see Derek visibly steeling himself. His muscles tensed and his jaw clenched. He nodded.

“Go, go, go!” Scott yelled.

They ran.

===

The storm quickly grew in intensity, the air thickening, sand blocking out the sun until Stiles was almost completely blind. He knew the others were around him somewhere, but he couldn’t see them. He couldn’t even see Derek right next to him, or Scott on Derek’s other side. His only reliable sense was touch. He could feel the wind, the blowing sand, and Derek’s arm gripping his shoulder with a fierce strength Stiles hadn’t thought Derek even possessed in his current state. Stiles’s feet stumbled quickly over rocky terrain and he was tripping up so often he wasn’t sure if he was supporting Derek or if Derek was supporting him. Several times, they both tripped and almost fell, but each time the other’s grip was there to stabilize them.

Stiles had to close his stinging eyes against the wind. He was sucking sand into his mouth, throat, and nose with every gasping breath he took. Tried to take. He wasn’t sure any oxygen was even making it into his lungs. His chest burned and heaved.

And it wasn’t just sand blasting against his body. Rocks, sticks, and other debris were crashing into his legs, arms, torso, head. Something with what felt like dozens of little razor sharp points careened into the side of his neck, dragging scalding gashes along his skin. He cried out involuntarily at the pain, and his mouth instantly filled with sand. He choked and gagged, his throat closing up.

Then he felt Derek tug him sharply to the side. He stumbled with the abrupt change in direction and his shoulder bounced off of something hard and rocky. He fell forward, his knees and elbows crashing painfully to the hard ground and suddenly the wind was cut off and he was gasping in fresh air. He felt the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground next to him and heard Derek’s ragged choking breaths.

After a few minutes of just breathing, sucking fresh, clean air into his aching lungs, Stiles rolled over onto his back and dragged his dry eyes open. He blinked at his surroundings.

They were somewhere with walls and a ceiling. It was dark and he could hear the wind howling outside. He felt around with his hands. Earthen ground, a rocky wall by his side. A cave?

He turned his head, wincing at the sting of cuts on his neck. He could make out Derek’s form next to him, so pale he was almost bright in the semi-darkness.

“Scott?” Stiles croaked, his voice dry and hoarse. “Where’s Scott?”

Derek stirred. “Lost him,” he coughed.

Goddammit. Scott and the others were still out there.

He looked around at the cave again. Where they were, it wasn’t very large. If he and Derek stood next to each other and held hands, they could both still touch the opposite walls of the cave. The cave did seem to go deeper into the earth, though how deep, Stiles couldn’t tell. It got darker toward the back, until the walls seemed to twist off and curve away and Stiles couldn’t see what was beyond. 

The storm outside was still loud, and every few seconds a strong wind gust would blow a burst of sand into the cave, but it was significantly calmer and quieter in this shelter from the storm.

“Wow, you really came through with the wolfy energy reserves in the end, there. How’d you know this was here?” Stiles tried clearing his throat, but it didn’t help his scratchy voice. His throat throbbed, raw and aching.

“Heard it when we got close. The wind sounded different here. Echoed.”

Stiles snorted and instantly regretted it. He sneezed and groaned disgustedly when a glob of sandy snot dribbled out of his nose. He swiped it away with the back of his hand. “You’re like a bat,” he quipped, his raw voice nasally.

Derek just grunted in response.

“Hey,” Stiles said. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and started to crawl towards Derek. “You okay?”

“Mm,” Derek responded, dully.

Stiles frowned. "What's—" 

Just as Stiles drew closer, Derek’s eyes shot open. His body spasmed violently and he rolled onto his side. He heaved and liquid spewed out of his mouth, spattering onto the floor in a sick puddle.

Stiles scrambled back to avoid getting vomit splatter on himself. “Oh, dude. Gross.” He tried to keep the alarm out of his voice.

“Wha—” he started, but stopped when he glanced down at the puddle. It was mostly clear liquid; if Derek's disturbing drop in weight wasn't evidence enough, the obvious lack of anything in his stomach proved that Kate probably hadn't fed him in the many weeks she'd had him. It was empty, anyway, except for a single tiny white berry. Right in the middle of the glop of slowly spreading bile. “Oh shit,” Stiles said, leaning in closer to examine it. He looked sharply back up at Derek. “Derek, is that  _ mistletoe? _ Did Kate  _ poison _ you? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Derek had collapsed back onto the ground in exhaustion, but his eyes were still open and he was looking back at Stiles. “Didn’t know,” he said breathlessly. "Must not have been conscious for that part."

Stiles shuddered at the thought of Kate doing terrible things to Derek even when he wasn't awake.

“Must not have been much or you’d be freaking  _ dead _ right now,” He noted anxiously. “Do you feel better? Was that all of it?”

Derek nodded. “I think so.”

“Jesus, I can’t believe you just puked that up. You had to give up your _alpha_ _powers_ just to save Cora from mistletoe poisoning,” Stiles said, staring at Derek wide-eyed. 

“It was a lot more. With Cora. More than just one berry.” He closed his eyes. “Think I just got lucky.”

“Lucky. Fuck.” Stiles dropped back onto his butt. He looked out through the cave’s opening. The storm still raged outside. He wondered if Kate and Cualli had already found his friends. Wondered how long it would take them to find this cave.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just resting. Then Stiles, never one to let a silence go on for long, asked, “Why does Kate want you so bad, anyway? Trying to finish off the Hale family tree? Why did she go after you and not Peter or Cora? You just get the luck of the draw?”

Derek opened his eyes and heaved a sigh. He struggled up into a sitting position, wincing as the movement jostled his many wounds. He rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. “It’s...it’s a long story,” he said, quietly.

“Uh,” Stiles gestured toward the raging storm outside the cave. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re kind of trapped here. All we have is time.”

Derek glared at Stiles and did some kind of annoyed wiggly thing with his eyebrows. “Oh, the eyebrows are coming back to life,” Stiles remarked. “You really are feeling better.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the small laugh that huffed out of him. Stiles raised his own eyebrows in surprise, but didn’t bring attention to it. Derek’s laughs were a rare phenomenon. He was afraid if he mentioned it, he’d never see one again. He attested the momentary lapse in Derek’s cranky demeanor to the general exhaustion and leftover effects of being tortured and poisoned.

Then Derek’s face smoothed into a serious expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. Then he shook his head and spoke. “Kate and I,” he said, his tone sober, reluctant. “Have a...history.”

Stiles was pretty sure his eyes bugged out of his head. He pointed at Derek, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. “Like a  _ history _ history? You,” he managed to sputter out. “You and…” He pointed outside. “Kate? Kate ‘Homicidal Bitch’  _ Argent?” _

Derek grimaced, but didn’t respond.

Stiles head was spinning.  _ “When? _ It would have had to have been...it was before the fire, right? You never would have…after...” His face scrunched in thought. “Wait, didn’t the fire happen when you were, like fifteen? Isn’t Kate like ten years older than you? Ew.”

Derek shook his head. “Five years,” he said.

“So, what changed? Did she burn your family alive because of a bad break up or something?” Stiles winced, finally realizing how insensitive he was being. “Crap, I mean...sorry. That’s...you don’t have to talk about it.”

Derek sighed. “No, it’s…” He pressed his lips together. “Kate used me,” he blurted. “She used me to get to my family. Then she killed them. It was my fault.”

Stiles let that sink in. The Hale fire. Kate seduced Derek and that somehow allowed her to trap his family in their home and burn it to the ground with them still inside. And Derek...Derek had been living with that guilt for years. No wonder he was so...Derek.

What did you even say to something like that?

A sickening thought occurred to Stiles, then.

"Have you...ever talked about this with anyone? Does anyone else know this?"

Derek lowered his eyes. Shame colored his face. "Peter knew, I think. But we've never...he hasn't said anything about it. Since he came back."

"Laura? You never told her?"

"God, no. I couldn't…" He just shook his head.

All these years. And no one had ever told Derek that the actions of a manipulative psycho killer couldn't possibly be his fault.

"Derek…" Stiles started. How could he even begin to convince Derek that he'd carried that guilt for so long needlessly? "It wasn't...you—"

"Actually," Derek cut him off. "You're right, I don't want to talk about this." He inhaled heavily and leaned into the rocky wall next to him, using the support to leverage himself into a shaky stand. His legs wobbled under him, but he held his position. "We can't just sit around here waiting for them to find us," he said, his voice rough.

"No, Derek," Stiles stood and took a step toward Derek. He reached a hand out to grip Derek's shoulder. "Listen to me." He shifted so that he was standing in front of Derek and their eyes met. "We might die, okay? If we're about to be freaking murdered, you can't go out never hearing someone say that what Kate did wasn't your fault."

Derek sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. He sat like that for a few long seconds before he opened them again. They were hard. "Stiles, you don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't? Really?" Stiles spat. He didn't mean to get angry, but he could feel it boiling. "Maybe you don't remember what was happening to me  _ literally _ the last time you saw me. Do you think that was my fault, huh? Do you think I'm responsible for all the people the Nogitsune killed?"

Stiles realized dimly that he wasn't sure if he was asking for Derek's sake or for his own.

Some of the hardness left Derek's eyes as they softened with surprise. "Stiles, that's not the same—"

"It's not? Kate used your body. In a different way than the Nogitsune used mine, maybe, but the result was the same. We both got used, and a lot of people died because of it. If you wanna say that was your fault, fine, but you're saying the same thing about me." Tears stung annoyingly at his eyes. He shook them away frustrated.

"So…" Stiles crossed his arms and shrugged, as though he could shrug away the shadow of the past looming over them both. He cleared his throat. "What's your plan, anyway?" he said, changing the subject. "How are we gonna…" He waved toward the cave entrance. "Get out of this."

Derek looked hard at the wall of blowing sand and his shoulders sagged wearily. He shook his head. "I don't have one."

Stiles dropped his head back to stare resentfully at the heavens. "Great," he sighed. "What did we do to deserve this?" he asked the ceiling. Then he thought about that for a second. "Actually, don't answer that," he amended.

The cuts on his neck stung when he stretched his neck back and he winced, prodding the wounds gingerly. "Ow."

Derek frowned and reached out to pull Stiles's hand away from the cuts. He tilted his head to the side and squinted against the dimness of the cave, examining the wounds. He plucked at Stiles's skin and Stiles hissed, slapping Derek's hand away. "Dude, ouch! What the hell?"

"Cactus needle," Derek said, holding his pinched fingers up to show Stiles. It was too small for Stiles to see in the dim light, so he took Derek's word for it.

"Oh, good. Flying cacti. Glad it wasn't my face, I guess. It's my best feature."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You mean it's not your shining personality?" He said with a half-smirk.

"Half-dead already—about to be fully-dead—and  _ now _ you've got jokes?" Stiles threw his hands up. If he were being honest, though, he was being facetious. He'd never admit it, but he'd always kind of appreciated Derek's dry, sarcastic humor. It paired well with his cranky face and stupid eyebrows.

"Actually," Derek said, his voice distracted. He was staring off into the depths of the cave, his head tilted as though he were trying to listen for something. "Maybe we're not."

"Not what?"

"About to be dead."

Stiles turned his attention to the darker (scarier) part of the cave. "You hear something?"

Derek nodded slowly, still listening intently. "Sounds like...wind."

"Uh, maybe you didn't notice, the…" Stiles hooked a thumb toward the storm. "Did you hit your head? Do you have a fever?" Stiles tried to put the back of his hand on Derek's forehead but Derek smacked it away.

"Wind  _ inside _ the cave, Stiles. Which means—"

Ding. "There's another entrance," Stiles deduced, wagging his finger at Derek thoughtfully and peering towards the dark depths of the cave. "So what does that mean? How does that help us?"

"How far do you think the nogitsune's wind powers reach?"

Oh.  _ Oh. _ Stiles was starting to see where Derek was going with this. "What, you're thinking maybe the storm has a small area of effect?"

Derek nodded. "What if the other entrance is far enough away that it leads outside of the storm's radius?"

"That's...pfft." Stiles blew out a breath. "A long shot. What if it covers this whole valley?

"It's the only chance we have."

"You're right. It's a good idea. Smart, actually." Stiles squinted suspiciously at Derek. "Derek, are you  _ smart?" _

Derek rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said, pushing himself away from the wall he was leaning on. He wavered a bit and Stiles rushed to steady him. Derek grunted in frustration, but let Stiles slide his shoulder under his arm.

"My what big ears you have," Stiles sighed. "Lead the way with ‘em, Big Bad Wolf. Let's hope that luck holds out."

===

The cave went deeper than Stiles expected. Much deeper. They'd been walking—slowly, for Derek's sake—for what felt like at least ten or fifteen minutes and all Stiles could hear so far was just the ringing in his damaged ear. No wind. Which meant the supposed second entrance must be far off still. The light from the main entrance had long ago faded and they were shuffling along in pitch darkness.

"Please tell me you can see in the dark," Stiles pleaded. "I really don't want to step off into some deep pit and fall to my death. Or get eaten by some kind of cave demon." He stopped walking abruptly and Derek grunted in annoyance, the interruption in momentum disrupting his already tentative balance. "Wait, wait...Monsters are real now. There are probably all kinds of monsters that live in caves, aren't there? Like, real, actual monsters. There are so many myths and legends about cave-dwelling creatures, they can't  _ all _ be made-up. Oh, god—"

"Stiles, breathe." Derek's tone was uncharacteristically patient. "I'll smell any cave trolls way before it's a problem. They're pretty pungent."

_ "Cave trolls?" _ He narrowed his eyes at Derek, even though he couldn't see him. "I don't know what worries me more...that you might be serious, or that you might actually be  _ joking. Again." _

"Keep wondering."

It had to be the poisoning. Who knew snarkiness was a side-effect of mistletoe poisoning?

They walked in silence for a while before Stiles interrupted it again.

“Cave trolls aren’t actually real, though, right?”

“Oh my god, Stiles.”

“Okay, okay! I had to ask.”

===

Derek, it turned out, couldn’t see in the dark, but his other heightened senses made up for that. He led them through the narrow, winding cave for a long while until, finally, Stiles noticed that the air started to smell different. The deeper they had gone into the cave, the staler the air had gotten, but now it was beginning to smell fresher. Hopefully that meant they were getting closer to the other entrance.

“Do you think they’re okay?”

There was a long silence before Derek finally responded. “Scott and the others? I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Don’t be patronizing. Tell me what you really think. Do you think they could have lasted this long out there? With Kate and the...with  _ it? _ It’s been at least an hour.”

“I don’t know, Stiles. Maybe. Scott’s resilient. If anyone could stand against her and survive, it would probably be him. They’re all tough.”

“But…? I can hear the but.”

“But...it’s Kate. She killed my entire family. She came back from the dead. She’s...Kate.” Disgust dripped off of Derek’s words. Disgust and fear. Deep-seated, well-earned fear.

Stiles sighed. “Yeah. That’s what I’m worried about.”

It wasn’t much further until the cave began to lighten. Stiles was beginning to be able to make out some details here and there. He could hear the wind now. It was faint here. Not at all like the other end of the cave where the storm was roaring.

Then they rounded a corner and there it was. Stiles laughed in relief when he saw it.

This entrance was small. Much smaller than the one at the other end of the cave. But it looked just large enough to allow a man to squeeze through.

A thin man.

“Shit,” Stiles said, looking over at Derek. He eyed Derek’s broad, muscled shoulders. He’d lost weight while Kate had held him captive, sure, but he’d hadn’t  _ shrunk _ . There was no way he was fitting through that hole. Stiles wasn’t sure he’d even fit through, himself.

“Shit, Derek. Now what?”

Derek was staring hard at the small opening in the wall. He seemed to be deep in thought.

Stiles’s eyes widened and he pointed at Derek, his movements frantic, excited. “That look,” he said. “I know that look. You stole that look from me, that’s my ‘I-have-a-plan’ look. What are you thinking?”

Derek frowned and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to come up with something this whole time, but now I don’t know. I was going to be the one taking the risk. If you do it alone, you’ll get killed.”

“Wow, thanks for the confidence.”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah, yeah, squishy human, I get it. But I’m dead, either way, Derek. At least let me go out fighting. What’s the plan?”

“The plan isn’t to fight. Kate has a satellite phone. One that works way out here in the desert. I’ve seen her use it. She usually carries it with her, I’ll bet she has it right now. My plan  _ was _ to get it from her and call for backup.”

“Derek, we  _ are _ the backup.”

“Backup for the backup, then. Chris. Peter. Braeden.”

“Chris is in France. Peter’s...I don’t even need to... Braeden, I’ll give you, she might come. What were you planning on doing while you waited for backup, exactly? Ask Kate and Cualli for a rain check?”

“I don’t  _ know, _ Stiles, I’m making this up as I go along. Do you have any better ideas?”

Stiles chewed his lip, then, “Nope,” he said. He slipped from underneath Derek’s arm and started for the hole. “Guess that plan’s as crappy as any I could come up with.”

“Wait, Stiles, where are you going?”

Stiles didn’t stop. “Out there.”

“Stiles, if you go out there alone you’ll die.” Derek started toward Stiles, but he was still too slow and weak and Stiles pulled away from his reach and dove out of the hole. The edges of the rock scraped painfully against his skin as he barely managed to squeeze out of the opening. He blinked as his eyes adjusted painfully to the bright daylight.

Derek had been right. The storm didn’t reach this far.

Where he stood, the breeze was strong, but nothing like it had been in the storm. He turned back toward the cave. It was a small opening half-hidden beneath shrubs and rocks at the bottom of a steep hill. He ignored Derek’s calls from inside the cave and climbed the hill.

He’d hoped the storm would have died by now. That the...that Cualli would have dropped it. Gotten tired, maybe. But she hadn’t. Off in the distance, it still raged, a massive whirlwind of dust and debris, spinning angrily, sweeping over the desert like a dry hurricane.

And his friends were still in there somewhere.

He turned back and half-walked, half-slid down the hill. Derek was still there, inside the cave, cursing and yelling.

“It’s still there,” Stiles said, interrupting Derek’s verbal rampage.

_ “What _ is still there?” Derek spat.

“The storm. It’s still going.”

Stiles could barely make out Derek’s face since his eyes were no longer adjusted to the darkness where Derek lurked, but he could see Derek shake his head, demoralized. “Stiles, you’re gonna get yourself killed. Come back in here, we’ll think of something else.”

“No can do, wolfman. Got a pack to save.” He leaned in closer to the cave. “Listen, Derek, if I don’t come back...just wait them out, okay? You’re sick and you’re hurt. Don’t come wading into the fight trying to save us. If you stay in there, they might not find you. At least then one of us will make it. If you make it out alive, she loses, okay? Don’t let her win.”

Stiles didn’t wait for Derek’s response. Nothing Derek could say would stop him from saving his friends.

He turned and ran.


End file.
